Flirting with 75,000 words now, nearly finished! Here is the first few pages, not edited at this point, but still hope you like it.
Working Blurb:
Emory is a humble kitchen servant intent on working hard so
he can continue to earn his daily crust of bread. It is a thankless,
back-breaking job but it is exactly where Emory wants to be. In the magnificent
West Quay castle. Because that is where the incredibly handsome, extremely
talented Crown Prince Riffyn lived. The beautiful, kind and attentive man had
stolen Emory’s heart years before when he rescued him and his mother from a
band of thieves. Now Emory’s only wish is to be close, so he can simply admire and
serve the man. A prince who seems he just might feel something for Emory as
well.
But evil walks the halls of the castle, and Emory stumbles
on a plot to kill the prince. Of course, being a lowly servant, no one believes
him, including Riffyn. Luckily he haphazardly thwarted the plot, putting his
own life in jeopardy but unfortunately did not stop the threat to the prince.
He needs to convince Riffyn of the danger, but how?
Especially, now, after it is announced that it is time for the
prince to marry and produce an heir to the throne. Even as Emory’s heart breaks
because of this, three separate kingdoms are bringing their eligible princesses
to vie for the prince’s hand. And then, to top it off, Emory discovered some of
these princesses are using magic to enchant the prince to love them against his
will. Are these princesses part of some plan
to overthrow the kingdom? Or are they somehow connected to the evil plot to
kill the prince? Either way, Emory must find a way to save his prince.
Prologue
They
had knocked the basket out of Emory’s mother’s hands and the contents had
rolled in the dirt. The bread had been wrapped in a thin cloth, so had been
protected, and the vegetables could be washed, but it was humiliating there was
little to nothing Emory could do to stop what was happening. There were three
of the ruffians circling both him and his mother, two held short blades, but
all of them were large and intimidating.
Emory
hated his thin body. He labored hard working their small farm, tending to the
livestock and keeping starvation at bay, but even at the age of fifteen, he had
not developed the muscles young men his age had, doing the very same things he
did. Still, he had to at least try to make sure this encounter with these
thieves did not go any farther.
“Leave
us alone! We’ve done you no wrong!”
“Emory!”
his mother whispered harshly. “Hush, boy.” She tried to push him behind her
which was even more embarrassing.
“That’s
right, Emory,” one of the ruffians
taunted. “Hide behind ye mama’s petticoat befores we cuts you up and feeds you
to the bog rats.”
“Yeah,
sonny. Theys mighty hungry this time of year,” jeered another. Then the vile man’s
attention went back to his mother. “Course, we have a different activity
planned for mama.”
They
all laughed as the circle they had formed around them became smaller and
smaller, all three of them staring like starving animals at his mother. She
gripped Emory’s wrist even as he tried to raise his arm to shield her. “No,
Emory! Please do nothing foolish!”
“Mom!
Stop!” He stepped out beside her. “I need to protect you. I can fight them.”
But
she was crying and the tears distracted him for a crucial moment, his heart
wrenching. It was why the hit to his left side was unexpected. It had also been
so hard Emory was suddenly face down in the same dirt as the radishes. Even as
kicks rained down on him he could hear his mother’s screams and the tearing of
fabric.
“Mom!
No! Leave my mother alone!” He could do nothing more than to protect his own
head. He was going to be no help at all to his mother. What did he do?
“Unhand her, you scum!”
Only
in that moment had Emory been aware he had heard horse hooves thundering the
ground. He just hadn’t realized it could have heralded a hero coming to rescue
his mother and him. Noting the man who had been mercilessly kicking him was
thankfully no longer interested in him, Emory rolled and gained his feet. It
was then Emory was able to gaze up at the magnificent man who had just arrived.
Dressed in chainmail and a royal blue cloak, he slipped from his incredible
steed with agility and grace, drawing his sword in a motion so fluid it was
like a dance.
“Who
da hell are you?” one of the three who had attacked them snarled. Those same three
now surrounded the beautiful man who was clearly a noble. What someone like
that was doing here in Wybrook Emory had no idea. But he was thrilled the man
had stopped the attack on his mother. Running to her sitting on the ground
trying to cover herself having had the top of her dress nearly torn from her,
Emory quickly took his own tunic off and slipped it over his mother’s head.
Then he helped her to her feet. “Are you okay”
“Yes,”
she stammered. “Are you?”
“Of
course,” he scoffed, disgusted with himself he had needed help to protect his
mother. Emory could hear the fight going on behind him as he turned to see if
he could at least do something. But his mother pulled on his arm, keeping him
next to her.
“Please,
Emory. You’re hurt enough.”
Hurt?
He glanced down at his naked chest and saw the beginnings of bruises, a few
cuts and abrasions, but that was it. “I’m fine, Mother.”
But
she held fiercely onto him which was fine. The nobleman was having no trouble
all by himself. The man seemed to be toying with the three. The two with short
blades jabbed at him menacingly but he appeared to be avoiding them with ease.
The one without a blade was laid out flat, his attempts to attack the man obviously
failing miserably. The blue-cloaked nobleman was as remarkable with a sword as
he was to gaze at.
“Who
is he?” his mother whispered.
“I
have no idea, mother. But he’s amazing.”
Suddenly,
as if the man had tired of his inept opponents, with a twist of his sword he
knocked one short blade out of one of the ruffian’s hands, and with another
swing, the second blade went flying. The would-be rapists screamed in protest
but decided they, too, had had enough and ran off, including the man who had
been on the ground.
The
man sheathed his sword as he turned to both Emory and his mother. “Are you alright?”
He held out a hand to Emory’s mother who took it. The man bent low and kissed
her hand. Emory watched as his mother blushed.
“Oh
yes, thanks to you, kind sir.”
Just
then two men, also clothed in chainmail and cloaked in blue, came thundering in.
They were equally as large as the man who saved them, but nowhere near as
handsome.
“Your
Highness! What happened?” The lead man unmounted even before his horse came to
a full stop, his sword having been already drawn.
“Only
a small altercation. Three ruffians were abusing these fine folks and I stopped
them. Fear not. All is well. They ran off on foot – that way.” He pointed into
the woods where the three had escaped.
“Do
we go after them, my lord?”
“Absolutely.
They attempted a foul deed and must be punished.”
The
man bowed his head quickly, mounted up and both men took off in the direction
the three ruffians had gone. Their savior turned back to Emory and his mother.
“May I ask your names?”
Your Highness? My lord? Emory knew his eyes were wide and it was at that instant
the beautiful man met his stare. There was a shock that ran through Emory’s
body and he knew right then he would never forget that moment. “Emory… Emory Murran.
My… my mom, Ekar Murran… my lord.”
“Emory
and Ekar Murran. I am pleased to meet you. I am Prince Riffyn Van Corby of West
Quay.” He bowed and Emory’s mom, her eyes wide as well, curtsied best she could.
Emory simply stood there not knowing what to do. Finally, his mother pulled on
his arm and Emory bowed awkwardly.
“Now,
are you sure you are alright? May I escort you home?” His gaze shifted to Emory
and he narrowed his eyes as he took in the battle wounds Emory had collected. The
man reached out to touch a particular bruise and Emory flinched. Self-conscious
of his bare skinny teenage chest Emory swiftly bent to retrieve the scattered
vegetables and the wrapped bread. He hurriedly stuck them back in his mother’s
basket, pulling it away from her as she reached out to take it from him. The
basket would hide at least some of his half-nakedness.
“No,
mom, I can carry it,” he muttered.
Seeming
to understand Emory’s embarrassment, the prince winked at him. “You are a good
son.”
“Thank
you, my lord.” His face heated up as he shifted his gaze downward. He was
attempting respect, to not gape directly into the prince’s beautiful blue eyes,
but now he was staring at the prince’s well-developed body and wished he, too,
could have muscles like that. But something else entered his brain at that
moment as well.
He
was wondering about the warm, gorgeous flesh the chainmail covered. He wanted
almost desperately to touch the naked chest underneath, be crushed to it by
those strong arms.
It
wasn’t a shock. He had had such thoughts about the male body before. While all
his friends were talking about girls, Emory realized he had no interest in
them. But he had found himself ogling the blacksmith’s son once, while he
worked, swinging his hammer in the summer heat. Emory stared as he removed his
shirt that day, wiped the sweat from his face with it and tossed it aside.
Emory had been mesmerized by the sight of the man’s shiny physique, wishing he
could be closer, actually see more of his body. Even smell him. Luckily, the man had not caught him gawking.
However,
this was the first time he felt compelled to act on his thoughts. To actually touch.
He
knew now his face was as red as it could be because his skin was on fire.
Suddenly
there was a hand under his chin, lifting his gaze.
“There
is no shame in needing help with those three,” the prince expressed gently. “You
were unarmed, and I am well-trained with a sword.”
Emory
nodded best he could with the prince’s hand still holding his chin. “Oh my,
yes, you are. And…and thank you, my lord,” he whispered.
The
prince smiled. “No need to thank me,” he assured, his deep voice shivering
Emory’s very core. “I am sworn to protect my citizens. And do not fear those
men. My knights will find them, and they will pay for what they attempted here
today. They will not bother you again. I will make sure of it.”
Emory
couldn’t help but gaze into the prince’s beautiful blue eyes with immense
gratitude. “I have no doubt. You are magnificent.” Realizing what he had said
he quickly added, “With… with that sword,”
he gushed.
The
prince laughed. “Thank you. Like I said, I am well-trained.” He stepped back as
he gave Emory a once-over. “You are young. You could learn. If you ever come to
the castle, let me know. I can see that you are taught.”
“The
castle? Me?”
“Of
course, Emory Murran. I invite you personally.” He gave a slight bow as he
gazed intently at Emory. Except there was something about the prince’s
contemplation that made Emory tremble, even breathless.
But
then people were arriving, crowding in on the prince and soon he was swallowed
up in the mass. Emory and his mother, after explaining a dozen times what had
happened, made their way home.
But
Emory never forgot the invitation to come to the castle.
